


Like Sweat Dripping Down (our dirty laundry)

by Mildly_Maddy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Maddy/pseuds/Mildly_Maddy
Summary: “Must be nice,” Niall says absentmindedly, moving his finger up to Louis’s chest. The motion of his hand is erratic, abrupt stops and long swipes, and it takes Louis a few seconds to realize that Niall’s playing connect-the-dots with the sweat beading on his skin.It gets even harder to breathe.--Set in the summer of 2017. Niall finally makes the fabled lads holiday happen, and gets a couple other things done while he's at it.





	Like Sweat Dripping Down (our dirty laundry)

**Author's Note:**

> Finished in honor of the 1dBackForYouCollab ficfest. A thousand thanks to @irishsunshine-n-l-l-h for unknowingly driving me to finally finish this, you have no idea how grateful I am. And as always a million thanks to @ferryboatpeak for the impromptu and yet fucking _fantastic_ beta, you're the best, please never leave me.  <3

The heat is oppressive, wrapping itself around Louis’s body like hot water, getting into his lungs with each breath. He can feel sweat beading up on his skin, sliding down his calves from the crook of his bent knees, tickling the back of his neck. The ratty red shorts he’s found at the bottom of a wardrobe, dusty and smelling of summers long past (like most things around this house, which Niall rented for four days right in the middle of everyone’s promo, for the fabled lads’ holiday that nobody really thought would ever happen until Niall turned up on their doorstep, plane tickets in hand) are already getting clammy, and while the sheets under his naked back are still crisp and clean, he knows it won’t last long. Still, holing up inside in this stuffy bedroom, both he and Niall crammed together on a tiny single bed, felt like a better idea than braving the summer sun.

“Can’t believe Harry’s gone to fucking golf,” Niall says, as if reading his mind. He’s lying on his side with his back to the wall, propped up on one bent arm, the top of his messy hair brushing against the slanted ceiling. One hairy knee is pressed against Louis’s leg, the tip of Niall’s toes tickling his foot. It’s way too hot for such close contact, but Louis is not about to point it out. “That idiot’ll get heatstroke for sure.”

The fact that Niall forewent golf to stay inside and get bored with Louis is the best proof of the insane heatwave the French countryside is going through, Louis thinks. Today’s temperature: 35 degrees celsius. Felt temperature: so fucking boiling that even Niall Horan would not play golf.

“Tell me about it,” Louis says, flipping to the next page of his hardcover comic book, something about the wacky adventures of four teenagers and their dog. It’s in French, and he only understands one word out of five, but he likes the artstyle and has already gone through half the series in the day and a half they’ve been here.

He gets through a couple pages more before Niall pokes him in the side, hard. When Louis lowers his book to mock-glare at him, Niall grins, not chastised in the least. “Where’s Payno?” he asks, the finger he’s jammed into Louis’s ribs now tracing idle patterns on Louis’s sweaty skin.

Louis tries not to think about Niall’s finger too much. “You have one guess,” he replies, flipping to the next page and squinting at the first speech bubble. Does “amande“ mean almond or fine? He can’t remember, although admittedly one would make less sense than the other in context.

Niall snorts. “Didn’t he Facetime them this morning already?”

“Now, give the lad a break. Bear might have learned to walk in those two hours.”

It’s still so strange to Louis, watching Liam be a dad. Not only because Liam feels young, way too young to already have a little piece of him growing into the world ( _Louis_ still feels way too young to have a Freddie of his own, most days), but also because when Liam calls Cheryl, it’s not just for her to turn the phone towards Bear. They spend _hours_ talking and laughing together, catching up on each other’s day, and that’s something Louis will never have, at least not with Briana. He likes her, hell at one point he really, _really_ liked her, but every time they talk nowadays it feels like they’re trying to follow a script neither of them has read.

“Must be nice,” Niall says absentmindedly, moving his finger up to Louis’s chest. The motion of his hand is erratic, abrupt stops and long swipes, and it takes Louis a few seconds to realize that Niall’s playing connect-the-dots with the sweat beading on his skin.

It gets even harder to breathe.

“What, being a dad?” he asks two minutes too late, voice a little strangled, as Niall’s finger moves down to his stomach, tracing circles around Louis’s belly button. His skin feels like it’s on fire, and he doesn’t dare look to see how far down the flush on his cheeks has spread.

“No, just… being so gone for someone. And them being gone for you,” Niall says, softly.

Louis peeks from behind his book; Niall’s looking down at Louis’s stomach, at his moving finger, and yet Louis’s not entirely sure he’s conscious of touching him.

Then Niall blinks, and before Louis knows what’s happening, he's clambering over him, straddling Louis’s waist for one breathtaking second before tumbling off the bed and getting to his feet with flushed cheeks and a grin. “D’you want an ice lolly?” he asks, already making his way to the door. In a flash, he’s gone, the thundering noise of his footsteps fading away on the old creaky stairs.

“No thanks!” Louis hollers after him, even though he doubts Niall could hear him, not with the house as big and winding as it is. He doesn’t move, even though he should probably get up and put on a t-shirt, no matter the heat, or just… sit in a chair or something, somewhere Niall can’t start touching him again. But he lies still, arms cramping up from holding up his book for so long, and waits for Niall to come back, too aware of his own body and the clammy bedsheets under his back.

The kitchen is two floors and a couple of hallways away, but Niall is back in no time, holding a multicolored lolly between his lips in a way that makes Louis’s fingers clench hard around the edges of his book.

“Sorry, was only one left,” Niall says, clambering back over Louis and settling next to him again, his t-shirt brushing against Louis’s side. “We can share if you want.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Louis chokes out, staring at Niall from the corner of his eye.

“Fucking hot,” Niall mutters, his lips pink and shiny, tongue blue from the first strata of the lolly. Louis wonders how cold his mouth must be, how nice it might be to - no, he’s not going there. He turns his attention back to his book, which could now be written in Japanese for all Louis knows, the words dancing merrily on the page as his eyes lose focus, mind invaded with tempting scenarios Louis’s not supposed to think about when Niall is lying right next to him.

“I found a pretty cool board game in one of the cupboards,” Niall says after a while, thoughtfully tapping his ice lolly against his lips. “T’s called Space Conquest. There’s all these tiny rocket pieces that you get to stack up, and I’m pretty sure you use marbles for dice! Looks fucking wicked,” he says, waving his lolly excitedly around as he gets into the swing of things, and Louis can’t help the fond grin stretching his lips, not when Niall’s eyes are sparkling like a kid’s who’s been told Santa’s coming early.

“Sounds nice, maybe we can give it a holy FUCK that’s cold!” he squeals, dropping his book on his chest and half sitting up.

“Shit, sorry,” Niall says, looking down at Louis’s belly, on which a tiny (orange, Louis thinks feverishly) clump of his lolly has just fallen. It only takes a second for it to melt completely, and Louis’s breath goes squeaky as Niall reaches down, casually rubbing the melted water off with his thumb before bringing it up to his mouth. “Sorry,” he says again, sucking on his thumb.

“That’s… okay,” Louis says, waiting for his heart to stop hiccuping in his chest before lying back down. He picks his book up again, the pages sticking to his sweaty chest for a second, and stares at it with vacant eyes, his entire body poised, waiting to see what’s going to happen next.

He’s ever so slightly disappointed when Niall just starts to babble about the game again. “So anyway, the rules are only in French and German but I think I've got the gist of it, so maybe we could play tonight,” he says, stopping in the middle to lap at the beads of water that keep sliding down the length of his ice lolly, and Louis is _not_ thinking about that tongue lapping up another kind of lolly, he's really, really not.

Fuck, he's getting hard.

Two seconds later, when another clump of half melted ice drops on Louis’s stomach, Niall’s “Oops” doesn’t sound apologetic at all.

“Sorry, blame this fucking heat,” Niall says cheerfully, switching his lolly to his left hand and scooping the icy sugar off Louis’s belly, most of the lump melting as soon as it touches his hand. When Louis lowers his book to chance a look, Niall’s looking straight at him. He pops two sugar-coated fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around them, and Louis’s pretty sure he lets out an actual squeak.

He follows Niall’s spit-slicked fingers with his eyes as Niall lowers his hand back down to Louis’s waist, resting them against his hip, a tiny spot of freshness against Louis’s burning skin.

“You're lucky the ice feels good,” he mock-grumbles as soon as he feels like his voice is working again, and sure, maybe he’s hoping to goad Niall on a little, but so what? Niall started it.

It works. Next thing Louis knows, Niall’s half-melted lolly gets jammed into Louis’s belly button, the cold shooting straight up his body. “Fuck!” he gasps out, body curling inwards, his book falling to the floor in a flurry of pages.

Niall only shoots him a sly grin before bending down. Louis understands what he means to do a split second before Niall’s tongue laves at the mess of sugar and water and sweat in his belly button, not long enough to prepare himself for the shock of it or bite down on the startled moan that breaks free, extra loud in the quiet room.

Niall pauses, hot breath fanning over Louis’s cold skin, and Louis stops breathing.

There’s a beat, then another.

“You eat too much salt,” Niall finally says, before taking another lick.

“I'll cut down,” Louis answers, a little dazedly, blinking away the sweat in his eyes as he stares down. Niall continues lapping at Louis’s stomach long after the ice is gone, his face intent, his tongue coiling and probing at Louis’s belly button like he can’t get enough of him. His stubble is prickling Louis’s skin, a strange contrast with the smoothness of his tongue, just this side of unpleasant, enough to confirm that this is really happening.

“Neil,” Louis says, and it’s little more than a croak, but Niall does stop, lips hovering over Louis’s stomach, eyes cast down. Louis can see the tension in his shoulders, the uncertainty no longer hidden by his cockiness, and maybe Louis’s own fingers are shaking a bit when he gently reaches down and brushes his fingertips against Niall’s cheek, but he doesn’t feel as self-conscious about it now. “Hey, Neil,” he whispers, and Niall finally turns his head to look up at him, blue eyes wide and worried.

“Wouldn't mind getting some of that,” Louis gets out, even though he's not sure what “that” he's referring to, not sure what Niall will take it for.

Niall scoots up, eyes fixed on Louis’s lips, but it's the lolly he brings up to Louis’s mouth, or what remains of it, steadily dribbling down Niall’s wrist.

Niall brushes the ice against Louis’s lips, and Louis opens his mouth willingly, neither of them blinking as Niall slowly slides it inside. It should be ridiculous, Niall sliding that lolly in and out of Louis’s mouth like they're in a bad porn movie, but Louis can barely breathe with how turned on he is.

Then the lolly is out of his mouth, falling to the floor with a wet plop as Niall bends down and kisses him deep, tongue chasing the sugar coating Louis’s mouth. It’s fucking filthy, and perfect, and Niall’s strangled moan when Louis buries a hand in his sweaty hair, fingers tugging at the strands, shoots straight down to Louis’s cock.

Any time he’s thought of kissing Niall - and fuck, how many times has he thought of it? - Louis’s pictured it as starting slow, unsure, but there’s nothing tentative in the way Niall sucks on his tongue, his sugar-sticky hand clenched around Louis’s jaw like he’s afraid Louis could ever want to stop kissing him.

Niall shifts against him, slips one leg between his, thigh pressing down against Louis’s dick, the friction more than enough to get Louis to full hardness. He pushes up, can’t help himself, and it’s Niall who breaks the kiss after all, wrenching his mouth away from Louis’s with a heartfelt “Fuck!”

They stay still, Niall’s breath blessedly cold against Louis’s lips, Louis’s hand still in his hair, staring into each other’s eyes. A bead of sweat dangles from one of Niall’s eyelashes for a breathless second before dropping down onto Louis’s cheek, breaking the spell, and Louis leans up, catches Niall’s mouth in another kiss.

The last time he had Niall draped over him this way, roughhousing on the floor of the bus after a concert, Niall was still little more than a gangly teenager, all pale skin and blonde hair.

_This_ Niall, with his stubble and his dark hair and his strong thick limbs, this Niall is inescapably Man, and it makes Louis’s head spin in the best of ways.

They kiss for a while, slow and deep, and Louis lets himself get lost into it a little, puts his busy brain on standby so there’s nothing to think about but how hot Niall’s skin is under the palm of his hand, how plump his lips can get from being sucked on, how fucking delicious the pressure of Niall’s thick thigh feels against his dick.

Eventually, they do stop, breathing heavy, Louis reluctantly taking his hands away from Niall’s hair and shoulder. The bedsheets have gone from clammy to drenched, and their corner of the room stinks of sweat, and Louis’s the happiest he’s been in a while. 

Still, the hint of moving air against his chest when Niall rolls back on his side is heavenly. Niall settles back next to him, one leg still curled around Louis’s, his dick very noticeably hard against Louis’s hip, like a friendly reminder of what’s on offer.

The seconds stretch out between them, heavy like molasses, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing and the faint rhythmic “pock-pock” of tennis balls somewhere in the village (Louis distantly makes a note to check it out later; maybe they could have some matches in the evening when it’s cooler).

Louis stares at the slanted ceiling, its faded green speckled with white where the paint has peeled off, and counts the beats of his heart. He thinks that with the life he’s led, he should be used to suddenly getting his wildest wishes granted, but it never fails to take his breath away.

“Tongue-tied, Tommo? That’s a first,” Niall finally says with a chuckle, but the worry is clear in his voice.

“Shut up,” Louis says, turning his head to look at him. “You caught me by surprise, is all,” he adds, nudging him with his elbow. Something in Niall’s grin makes him pause. “… wait, did you plan for this to happen?”

“The heatwave? Nah mate, I'm not that good,” Niall says, cockily, before coyly looking away and shrugging one shoulder. “Just told myself if ever I got a shot this weekend, I'd take it.”

“Oh you _definitely_ have a shot,” Louis says, a tad more candidly than he intended, but Niall’s blinding smile is worth the slight embarrassment. “You should take this off, you’ll die of the heat,” he adds, tugging on Niall’s sweat-soaked t-shirt in an attempt at switching the focus away from him.

Between the t-shirt clinging to Niall’s skin and the slanted ceiling, getting it off is a bit of a challenge, but Louis helps him and finally the offending fabric is balled up and thrown to the end of the bed. Niall looks uncharastically self-conscious as he lies back down next to Louis, one finger tracing down the lines of Louis’s tattoos on his forearm.

“No wonder you're too hot, with all that hair,” Louis says, tugging on Niall’s chest hair the way he’s always done, except this time they both know the touch isn’t innocent.

It’s hard to tell because he’s so red from the heat, but he’s pretty sure Niall blushes, head tipping down to evade Louis’s stare. Louis tugs on Niall’s chest hair one more time, then moves his fingers to Niall’s nipple, stroking it back and forth with the edge of his thumbnail. Niall’s eyes snap back up, body visibly tensing against Louis’s.

“You like that?” Louis says, instinctively lowering his voice to a whisper.

Niall’s voice is strained when he finally replies, cock twitching against Louis’s thigh with every brush of Louis’s thumb. “Don't usually care much,” he says, and Louis can’t help but snort.

To make his point, he pinches Niall’s nipple between thumb and forefinger, allowing himself a smirk when Niall bites down on his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “But you like it right now,” he says, cocking one eyebrow.

He doesn’t expect Niall’s self-deprecating laugh, nor his breathless and breathtakingly candid “Pretty sure I'd like whatever you decided to do to me.”

Well, fuck.

All in all Louis’s pretty proud of himself when, instead of coming in his pants untouched just from the strength of that visual, he manages to semi-smoothly whisper, “Yeah? Good to know,” even going so far as sliding his hand further down, fingers skirting the edge of Niall’s shorts as if he’s the one in control here.

Niall grunts, rolling back on top of him and pressing his eager mouth against Louis’s once more, and there’s a definite intent behind it this time around, an urgency that makes Louis’s blood turn even hotter than it already was, makes that familiar weight build up low in his belly.

It’s probably fucking insane to do this in this heat, but fuck it, he’ll-

“Guys, you here?”

In a split second, Niall is back on his side, Louis twisting and almost falling off the bed in his haste to reach down and get his comic book.

“Guys - ah, there you are! I’ve been looking… everywhere… for you…” Liam trails off, and Louis gulps down, staring hard at his book and trying to pretend that his dick isn’t tenting his shorts like the fucking Eiffel tower. He wonders what Niall’s doing.

“Your book’s upside down, Tommo,” Liam finally says, voice perfectly matter-of-fact, but when Louis chances a glance in his direction, Liam’s fucking grinning, and Louis finds himself throwing the book his way before he can stop himself. The room isn’t big, but it’s big enough that Louis had no shot in hell at touching Liam, and the book ricochets off the rickety table that’s in the center of the room, flopping down sadly on the threadbare carpet a few feet away from him. For a second, through the embarrassment and the heat, Louis feels bad; the book’s probably survived several generations of eager children and now he’s gone and damaged it.

Liam steps forward and picks the book up, carefully smoothing out the rumpled pages before placing it on the table. “I think I’ll go facetime Cheryl,” he says, not quite meeting their eyes, his grin still firmly in place.

Louis opens his mouth to point out Liam’s just spent two bloody hours talking to her, but Niall shifts against him, dick a hot hard press against Louis’s hip, and Louis clamps his mouth shut.

“See you later,” Liam says, walking out and shutting the door behind him.

Louis lets out a breath at the same time Niall laughs.

“Well, so much for taking things slow,” Niall says good-naturedly.

“It’s probably not very nice to leave him all alone,” Louis says, his eyes still turned towards the door. His heart is hammering in his chest, both from the shock of being walked on and the sheer want still thrumming through his body. “We probably should go get him.” He doesn’t _want_ to go, but he also doesn’t want Liam to spend this weekend waiting around while his best friends are selfishly getting off in what Louis is pretty sure used to be a kid’s bedroom many summers ago.

“Yeah, we should,” Niall says. There’s a brush of lips against Louis’s shoulder, then a flicker of tongue as Niall licks the sweat off him.

Well, Liam probably won’t mind waiting a few minutes more.


End file.
